


Three Little Birds

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Communes, Hippies, Marijuana Use, Multi, a lot of marijuana use, free love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Horchata, you wrote 'Anything' for Harry, Luna and Neville, and also: What if Harry just runs off with these two and absolves himself from the bullshit that is Being Harry Potter?</p>
<p>This story is kind of Neville absolving himself of Being Neville Longbottom, though Harry lets go of Harry Potter as well. The working title was "Neville Longbottom and the Hippy Commune", which probably says everything that needs to be said about this story.</p>
<p>This idea has been brewing in my mind for quite some time, and I'm glad of the chance to finally get it out of there, and gift it to someone lovely. I hope you enjoy it.</p>
<p>For the record, I haven't seen Breaking Bad, and although there are possibly similarish themes, they are unintentional.</p>
<p>Much love to C for beta-ing and handholding.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Three Little Birds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horchata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchata/gifts).



> Horchata, you wrote 'Anything' for Harry, Luna and Neville, and also: What if Harry just runs off with these two and absolves himself from the bullshit that is Being Harry Potter?
> 
> This story is kind of Neville absolving himself of Being Neville Longbottom, though Harry lets go of Harry Potter as well. The working title was "Neville Longbottom and the Hippy Commune", which probably says everything that needs to be said about this story.
> 
> This idea has been brewing in my mind for quite some time, and I'm glad of the chance to finally get it out of there, and gift it to someone lovely. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> For the record, I haven't seen Breaking Bad, and although there are possibly similarish themes, they are unintentional.
> 
> Much love to C for beta-ing and handholding.

Rise up this mornin'  
Smiled with the risin' sun  
Three little birds  
Pitch by my doorstep  
Singin' sweet songs  
Of melodies pure and true  
Saying', (this is my message to you)

Singing' don't worry 'bout a thing  
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright  
Singing' don't worry (don't worry) 'bout a thing  
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright

-Three Little Birds, Bob Marley

Luna's Wellingtons were pink with purple dinosaurs that tried to lick the mud off the rubber they were printed on. Harry’s Gryffindor red pair were quite admirable, and Neville himself was fond of his plain black ones that turned shiny when washed off by the rain, but he had to admit Luna's suited her quite a lot. Of course, maybe his admiration had something to do with the fact she was not wearing another stitch of clothing. He'd be happier right now if she'd let him wear clothes this time.

But she was adamant. Moonhen eggs had to be collected by the light of the full moon, and they'd be all the happier if the collectors were skyclad, as she liked to say, loving the word she'd picked up from a Muggle pagan who'd stayed with them a while. He was lucky to convince her they needed Wellingtons.

But while skyclad was all well and good for the Moonhens, for Neville it just meant a completely inappropriate erection as he watched the way the moonlight glinted off Luna's long, pale limbs.

She turned and smiled brightly. "That's a good omen," she said, reaching a finger forward to trail along his length. "It means they're particularly fertile and the magic will be stronger. It means the Moonhens like you."

Neville heard a snort from behind him and Seamus' voice curling through the darkness. "Sure and that's _exactly_ what it means, Luna."

"Shut it, Seamus!" Neville looked across at Harry with a grateful smile and noticed he was having the same problem. Harry grinned at him and wiggled his eyebrows, and when Harry rushed off after Luna, Neville found himself following happily, not even caring about Seamus and Dean’s laughter following him across the fields.

 

Nine months earlier

"I'm sorry, Mr Longbottom," Mr Boswick said, and he really _did_ sound sorry. "There's nothing left. There's a mortgage on the Hall and the Longbottom vaults are empty. Added to that, St Mungo’s is looking for payment."

 

“I thought the Ministry paid for Mum and Dad’s care, on account of them being Aurors at the time.”

“Ministry policy states that Aurors injured in the line of duty will have their medical expenses paid for twenty years after the injury. After that it is the family’s responsibility.” His parents had been injured twenty-one years ago. “St Mungo’s have cared for your parents for free for the last year, allowing you to arrange your finances, but are now asking for payment.”

Neville opened his mouth but no sound came out. 

"I would recommend you sell your home and lands to pay off your Grandmother's debts."

"No!" Finally, his voice returned. 

"Mr Longbottom, Neville, it's the only way."

"I was born in that house. As was my father, and his father, and his father before him. I won't sell it." He ran his fingers through his hair, mind whirling with the possibilities. "There's no reason it can't be a working farm, it has been before."

"Gringott's is asking for payment now."

"Where did all the money go?" 

"Some of it – a lot of it – went to attempts to heal your parents. Some on the upkeep of the house. Then, following your part in the war, well…" Mr Boswick sighed. "I knew your grandmother well, lad. I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, but she was very concerned with appearances, and after the war she wished to be seen. It would not do for a Longbottom to be dressed poorly at an event. There were goblin-made jewels. A lot of them."

"Where are they now? Can't I sell them to pay for all this?"

"As per the Potter-Griphook Agreement, all goblin-made materials return to their makers following the death of the wizard who had leased them. There is nothing of them left."

"Well, I have money saved up," Neville said. There had been an honorarium with the Order of Merlin, and he'd been saving all his apprentice wages. In fact, he'd finished his apprenticeship not a month ago, and had been looking forward to a break and the opportunity to see the world. Now it looked like those plans would have to wait. 

"It's possible the goblins would be willing to renegotiate, but the terms would not be favourable. Neville, you've been through a lot. Your parents, the war, _that_ year. You deserve a break. You don't deserve a run-down piece of land with a falling apart Hall home on it. Unfortunately, that's what you have, but I _strongly_ recommend you sell it and concentrate on a new life. Don't think that Longbottom Hall is the only place you can find your family. As long as you're still alive and you remember them, your parents’ spirits will live on."

“Of course, since my parents are still alive.”

“You know what I mean,” Mr Boswick said with a pat to his knee.

Neville just gave Mr Boswick a _look_. He was surprised the man hadn't gone with the requisite _in your heart_ as he put a hand on Neville's chest. Just because the man had had a regular fling with his grandmother, didn't make him anything except Neville's lawyer. "Renegotiate with the goblins and contact me when you know how I'm going to keep the property."

He walked from the lawyer's chambers trying to reconcile everything he'd just learned. He'd buried Gran not a week ago, and the Wizengamot had pushed all the legal stuff with the will and declaring his father non compos mentis through. There were benefits to being known as the Snakeslayer. 

He'd been all ready to move some stuff back to the Hall, make sure the House Elves were happy with keeping it tidy, and head off to Brazil, where he had a research spot secured with a multi-disciplinary group rafting up the Amazon. Ginny was there already and he'd been looking forward to all the new plants she'd been writing to him about. He pulled out his small notebook and scribbled _send Amazon guys a letter of regret_ to his growing to-do list. 

It was definitely past time to visit the Hall, though. That would be the next thing crossed off.

 

Neville apparated to the gates of Longbottom Hall. It had been close to five years since he'd come in this way, by foot. Five years since he'd walked the grounds he'd loved as a child. Between the war and finishing his eighth year and then working hard to get through his apprenticeship quickly, he'd been hard-pressed to visit regularly. He saw Gran often enough at official events, and he'd apparated straight to the entry hall for Christmas.

His gran never said there were problems. Never said that she needed money or that she wasn't coping with the upkeep. That's why what he was seeing was such a surprise.

The gate was rusted shut and the careful, filigreed reeds decorating it had broken off in spots. He could hear the hinges creaking as the gate attempted to open for the Longbottom heir, but it was no use. He considered using some sort of lubrication spell, but decided to climb the oak that stood by the main gate instead. It reminded him of summers past when he'd been desperate to escape Gran's eyes; a willow on the inside of the fence was a good way to get out, the oak was the path back in. He levitated his bag over the fence and shoved his boot into the first foothold. The bark scratched his hand, but the movements came back to him easily and he crawled along the branch that grew onto his land.

He paused at the end of it. The gate had only been the first of the surprises. From his perch he could see Longbottom land sprawling out as far as the eye could see. _All_ of it needed work. The trees were growing into each other and weeds had taken over. The lake at the bottom of the rise – once a crystal blue that he could fish in – was now brown and murky, as if fresh water had stopped feeding it. 

And then there was the house. He dropped to the ground and picked up his duffel, telling himself that it was the distance; that the house would look different once he got close. He started running towards the house, cursing whichever ancestors had placed it so far away from the gates, but slowed as he got closer. It was not the distance; the Hall really was that bad.

He stood at the end of the drive, looking up at cracked stone, weathered paint and broken shutters. How could he have not known? How could he possibly have missed this? He sent a _Reparo_ up at the closest window and watched the glass quiver under the spell before cracking once again. Too many repairing charms, or the glass was just too old. Either way, it needed to be replaced.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the front doors. They opened into the entrance hall where the Floo entry was, and it was like stepping into another world. _Here_ were the opulent rugs he remembered, the polished mahogany balustrades and gilt-framed mirrors. He walked into his Gran's sitting room, and the chaise looked newly upholstered, the silver tea-set polished to a high shine. He could see it now, and a quick glance in the study confirmed his theory. He hadn't been in there since his Great-Uncle Algie had died, and it showed clear signs of neglect. She'd kept any public rooms looking pristine and let the rest go.

He sank into the chair behind the desk, pleased that it could still bear his weight, and sank his head into his hands. Merlin, what was he going to do? This was far worse than he thought. And was there even a House-elf left?

"Meri?" he called, raising his eyebrows when nothing happened. "Tibby?"

Five seconds later an ancient House-elf popped up beside him, stumbling as he landed.

"Master Neville! You is back!" This simple phrase set the House-elf into a paroxysm of coughing and Neville ended up on the ground next to him, patting the poor thing's back. "Happy to see you, Master Neville, sir!" he said, before promptly passing out.

Neville lost his balance as he caught the old servant and landed on his arse, the dead weight of the House-elf in his hands. Maybe Boswick was right.

 

Four weeks later Neville was still considering calling the lawyer and asking him to put the entire mess on the market. He'd managed to put a crop of wheat in before it was too late, but it would not bring anywhere near enough profit to save the house. He considered sheep or cows, but he was a gardener, not a stockman, and besides, it required money to buy the first lot of breeding stock. At least he wouldn't starve – he'd managed to clear out a greenhouse and there were plenty of vegetables to get him through the winter. Even enough to sell a little. Not enough to pay back the goblins. 

Boswick had managed to get him a reprieve for a year – he had to make his current payments, but not the outstanding ones - but at this stage he had no idea whether his vault would hold a single galleon in a year's time. He'd was considering moving himself and Tibby to the Dowager's Cottage, it being significantly smaller than the Hall, and renting out the large house. He explained all this to the gang when they met up at the Leaky for their monthly get together.

He was hoping someone would have a brilliant solution, but all he got was sympathetic pats on the back and lots of promises that they would have helped, if only they could. 

Luna was the only one who came close to a solution. "You could always rent out your rooms. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would like to stay at Longbottom Hall. It has a lot of history, you know. The first Goblin Treaty was signed there in 1312, and Rochester Scamander first sighted a Snorcack in the lake nearby. Plus, people just like the moors."

"Bad enough I'm considering renting the Hall out to one person, let alone having lots of people tramping through, most of them probably wanting to see where the Snakeslayer grew up."

She patted his hand. "You can be choosy, Neville. You don't need to take in everyone who knocks on the door." She looked up. "Ooh, darts!" And then she was off, joining in the game Dennis and Justin had started in the corner and leaving Neville at the table with Seamus and Dean.

"What you need, Nev," Seamus said with a grin on his face, "is a cash crop. Something with high demand."

"You mean like snozberries? I've heard they're very fashionable at the moment."

"No, old friend. You need something you can demand a high price for. And I have just the crop for you."

Whatever Seamus was about to suggest was going to be a truly terrible idea, but a solution sounded wonderful. Even if Neville had to say no, he was going to let himself dream, for just a second, about whatever ridiculous thing Seamus was about to suggest.

"Marijuana."

"No."

"Yes, Neville," Dean put in. "It's perfect. You can grow edible hildaroots in gravel. You'll have the best damn dope in the UK."

"Hildaroots are poisonous."

"That's what we're _saying_ ," said Seamus. "You could make hildaroots _edible_. And you could make marijuana that's..."

"Wizard."

"Magic."

"Chronic."

"Greenest grass on the island."

" _Emerald Isle_ green." 

"Green like Harry's eyes, green."

"Have you been checking out Harry's eyes a lot, Seamus?"

"At least I'm not checking out his arse, _Dean_."

They got into a shoving match, seeming to forget Neville was even at the table. Which was a good thing, in Neville's opinion, because growing high-quality marijuana was not on his list of 'ways to get out of debt'. He began to edge his way out of the booth.

"Wait, Neville, you haven't said yes, yet."

Neville sank back against the seat and looked at Seamus. "Nor am I going to. I don’t know if you're aware, but cannabis is a banned substance."

"Of course we're aware; that's why you can get such a large amount of _cash_ for it."

"And go to jail!"

"Pfft." Dean waved his hand dismissively. "Your land has wards, doesn't it? No Muggle police force is going to get through there."

"And the Ministry?" Neville asked.

"Like they're going to arrest the Snakeslayer. Besides, Dean and I will only sell to Muggles. Stay off the Ministry's map."

"You and Dean?"

"Well, do you know where to sell it, Neville? We'll turn this into a partnership. You do the growing, we'll do the selling. It'll be perfect."

Neville was still shaking his head when Seamus poured him another shot of Firewhiskey, and he thought there was an adamant 'no' after his third shot, but by the seventh shot he couldn't actually remember what he was saying.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of groans and knocking. It took him a moment to figure out that the groans were his own and he didn't realise the knocks were at his front door until Tibby shuffled past him to open it. Where the hell was he? 

"Neville!"

"How are ya, mate?"

Merlin's saggy man boobs, it was Seamus and Dean, and they were tramping through his - he blinked, and looked around, realising he was lying in a crumpled heap two steps clear of the Floo. Tramping through his entryway like a couple of Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"You two are evil, and should be destroyed."

"Now, is that any way to be talking to the man bringing you a hangover cure?"

"Give it here, Seamus, or I get out a sword."

Seamus laughed as he handed the vial over. He kept talking and Neville tuned him out while he waited for the potion to take affect.

"So, I picked up some seeds on my way here and you can plant them straight away," Seamus was saying as the headache drained away.

“Seeds?”

"Ganga seeds, Neville. Like we talked about."

"I said – " Neville stopped. With the hangover gone, his memory of the night was coming back. "I was drunk. You can't hold me to that. It's not like I signed a contract or agreed to a wizard's oath."

"Neville."

"Friend."

"Buddy."

They squatted down beside him as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position.

"We don't want you to do anything you don't want to," Dean said.

"Aye. We're trying to _help_."

"Bad, home-grown shit that gives you barely any buzz gets £80 an ounce. _You_ are like Merlin himself with plants. Our weed will take on the Skunk market. £120 an ounce. £3000 per kilogram. I don't even _know_ how many galleons that is, but you could tell the goblins to put their debt in their pipe and smoke it, baby!"

"Or in their bong."

Both of them giggled, then looked to him, waiting for him to agree.

"No!" He grabbed his head. The headache wasn't quite gone, at least not when he was shouting.

"Well," Seamus said with a sniff. "We're just trying to help!"

"We'll just leave the seeds here for you, yeah." He heard something drop onto the hall table before Dean took a step away. "We know you still like plants."

He growled and they both moved quickly to the door. 

"See you next week, mate!" Dean said right before he heard two cracks of apparition.

"Can Tibby help Master Neville to bed?" 

Neville opened his eyes to find the ancient elves' ears perilously close to brushing his face. "No!" he said, quickly. "No, I'm fine."

He let his head drop back to the rug and closed his eyes. Hangover potion might get rid of aches and nausea, but nothing could make up for a lack of sleep.

 

When he woke up some six hours later it was to find a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring at him. 

"Luna?"

"Good evening, Neville. I've been thinking about your problem."

He blinked at her.

"And I think I can help. At least a little."

"Problem?"

"About not knowing enough people more interested in Snorcacks than the Snakeslayer."

"That's not exactly my problem."

"So I've decided to move in."

Neville blinked again.

"Your lovely friend Mr Tibby took my things to a spare bedroom. And I think I could find some fellow Snorcack enthusiasts."

"Um, Luna..." How to tell her he couldn't afford to have a friend stay.

"I'd pay rent of course. And help with the food. And you've plenty of room for animals – have you thought of breeding pigs?"

He blinked a third time. He couldn't say no to rent, so instead he said, "Did you figure out where the bathroom is?"

She nodded happily and helped him to his feet. "I'd like to get Moonhens as well. Fresh eggs would be nice."

 

The next day Neville sat down to a breakfast that Luna had cooked. 

"Tibby just didn't seem up to it, poor dear."

Neville glanced at the old House-elf, who looked surprisingly okay with that assessment and had a cheery, yellow ribbon around his neck. He wondered if Luna even knew how to cook, but she placed a plate of pancakes in front of him and they didn't look like they'd kill him.

"Thank you, Luna." He took a bite. "Mmm... these are good."

"I used the blueberries you have growing in the greenhouse. You should plant snozzberries, you know. They attract Snorcacks."

"I already have some to put in."

"We should go do that now. Well, after you finish your breakfast, of course."

"Thanks," he said. She sat down opposite him and watched, unblinking, as he cut pancakes and lifted the fork to his mouth. "Aren't you eating?"

"Oh, I don't eat wheat."

"Why did you make these then?"

"For you. And Tibby." Of course she'd fed his house-elf.

"Well, you don't need to make anything special for me. What did you have?"

"Bircher muesli."

"What's that?"

"Oats, grated apple, apple juice and yoghurt, mostly."

"Well, if you insist on cooking for me tomorrow morning, I'll just have some of that."

"Okay." She swept his empty plate up and took it to the sink, which she set to washing with a simple spell. "You should get a house-elf. Someone to keep Tibby company."

"I know, but..." He shook his head. "He'll have to put up with us for company."

"Oh, that's a good idea. He can sit by the fire with us at night. Are you ready to plant?"

Neville nodded and followed her out the door. As they walked out he grabbed the envelope of seeds that Dean and Seamus had left.

 

It was two weeks before the goblins came to visit again. He had settled into a routine, Luna had brought in her moonhen chicks and some regular chickens and he honestly thought he was getting his life back together. Then a goblin popped into his kitchen and he remembered that his life sucked.

"You did not make your full payment, Mr Longbottom. When will you make up the deficit?"

"Mr Nilgok, I thought we had an agreement?" He didn't like that the bankers could just pop into his house whenever they wanted, but as they owned part of it there was no keeping them out.

"We did. It was that you would make payments in full and on time."

"I just need a little more time.”

Nilgok looked at him suspiciously. 

“You’ll get more out of me paying than you would if you try to sell this place.”

“Agreed,” Nilgok said. “You will include this month’s payment with next month. On time and in full.”

“Of course,” he said. There was a pop of apparition, and then he let his head fall onto the table.

He felt small hands at his neck, slowly kneading the knots away. 

“Are you alright, Neville?” Luna asked, her hands spreading warmth throughout his body.

“I just have to do something I really didn’t want to do,” he replied.

“What’s that?”

Neville thought of the greenhouse full of cannabis plants he’d thrown in the ground on a lark. Boarding and moonhens and wheat: none of that was going to save him. He was going to become a provider of illicit substances.

“Listen to Seamus and Dean,” he finally answered Luna with a sigh.

 

He invited Seamus and Dean around for dinner and they sat in the kitchen, eating something called quinoa with roasted veg that Luna had made. 

“This is just a stopgap,” he told them.

“What is?” Seamus asked, looking dubiously at the quinoa. “This food?”

“No. The marijuana.”

“What?” Seamus and Dean’s heads both snapped up. “You’re doing it?” Dean continued.

Neville nodded. 

“Wicked!” Seamus said. “Have you planted yet? Is there any ready to sell? Can we see it?”

“We should show them now, or they’ll never eat dinner,” Luna said.

So they all trooped out to the greenhouse, the furthest from the house, which was full of marijuana plants.

“It’s not ready yet,” Dean said, “but soon.”

“You won’t regret this, Nev,” Seamus added. “We’re going to be rich.”

“Look,” Neville said. “I don’t want to be rich. I just want to pay off my debt, and after I do that I’m going to rip out the plants.”

A strange, squeaking sound came from Seamus’ throat.

“But we don’t want this hurting anyone,” Luna said. Neville smiled at the ‘we’. “You be careful who you sell to.”

“Of course, Luna. Besides, marijuana is _medicinal_ these days.”

“Dean, we’re serious.”

“But how are you going to live after you’ve paid off your mortgage. You’ll still need money.”

“There’ll be boarders and moonhen eggs and all sorts,” Luna said. “Don’t you worry about that, Seamus Finnegan.”

“Fine,” Seamus said, and they all trooped back to the dining table. Neville wasn’t too confident about boarders, and didn’t think eggs brought in _that_ much, but as long as he was free of his crippling debt, he didn’t care.

 

 

 

As it turned out, the first crop hadn’t even matured before his next boarder turned up.

“Look, Harry, I’m just not sure I can have you staying here,” Neville said when The-Boy-Who-Lived dropped his bag in the entry hall.

There was something about Harry’s face when he heard that, like he was hurt, but totally expected that sort of hurt that made Neville feel like the biggest arse in the world. He’d love to have Harry move in, but Harry was an Auror and Neville now had three greenhouses full of an illegal substance.

“No - no. I understand. I just thought, you know, you could do with the money and I could do with a change of scenery and… but I understand. I’ll just -” He gestured towards the fireplace which thankfully flared and saved Neville from sticking his own head in there to get rid of the guilt.

They both turned to the fireplace and Dean and Seamus tumbled out. Neville’s suspicion that they’d both been sampling their product was confirmed when they shoved their hands behind their back as soon as they saw Harry.

“Auror Potter,” Seamus said with a grin, though his voice was a little squeaky. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Dean, in the meantime, was glaring at Neville and mouthing something that looked like _nose for food_ which made no sense.

“Yeah, Nev. If you were having law enforcement company you should have just _closed your floo_ ,” Dean said with a significant look. And, yeah, ‘close your floo’ made more sense than anything to do with noses.

“Are you guys doing something illegal?” Harry asked. “Because if you are, you’re not being very subtle.”

“Nope. Nothing at all.”

“Uh-huh. I grew up Muggle, remember. My cousin smoked dope. I know what it smells like.”

Dean and Seamus sagged like their strings had been cut. “Look, Harry, mate. We’re just trying to help Nev, you know? Please don’t take us in.”

“You’re smoking marijuana to help Neville?” Neville agreed with Harry. It did sound pretty ridiculous.

“Don’t be _stupid_ , Harry,” Seamus said. “We’re _selling_ marijuana for Neville. You know… the stuff he grows.”

Neville was sure that this feeling he was having was what Hermione referred to as a need to facepalm. The fact that Seamus immediately covered his mouth with his hand as if that could keep the words in didn’t help. Harry turned to Neville.

“You’re growing an illegal drug?”

Neville shrugged. “I really do need the money. And I’ve had a look at the properties, you know? It’s mostly just relaxant and a little hallucinogen. There’s a magical form used for divination work. It’s really almost entirely harmless, I’m not sure why it’s banned.”

“But… _Neville_.”

“If you’re going to arrest me, Harry, can you wait for me to arrange the sale of the house?”

“I’m not going to arrest you.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Seamus said, falling to the floor. Once there he brought the joint in his hand up to his mouth and took a long drag. “You’re a good man, Harry Potter, even if you are a terrible Auror.”

“I am a terrible Auror,” Harry said, looking a little crestfallen. “That’s why I quit.”

“You what?” Neville knew he looked as shocked as Seamus and Dean. 

“It’s not what I want to do. I thought I had to, because of the whole defeating Voldemort thing, but I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt and I don’t like having to use offensive spells and even in training I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m done fighting evil, but I don’t know what to do instead. I was hoping I could live here for a bit, help out around the house. Find myself, you know? But if I can’t stay -”

“Wait! Of course you can stay.”

“But you said-”

“Because I couldn’t have you finding the marijuana. But if you’re not going to dob me in-”

“Of course not.”

“Then you can have the room next to Luna’s. Tibby’s got it ready, I think.”

Harry’s face lit up and all that guilt Neville was feeling was burned away in the onslaught of Harry’s happiness. 

“Thanks so much, Nev. I can pay for board, just let me know how much.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“In the meantime, Potter,” Dean said, holding out the cigarette. “Fancy to try another way of finding yourself?”

“Stop smoking the merchandise, you idiots!” Neville turned to Harry. “I’ll show you to your room.”

 

The first job Harry took upon himself upon moving in to Longbottom Hall was to set up a magic-proof room. 

“Do you really need the mugglebox, Harry?” Luna asked as the four of them sat down to dinner. 

“I guess not,” Harry replied as he passed the potatoes to Tibby. “But… _River Cottage_.”

Neville nodded. Because, yeah. _River Cottage_. Luna had never lived with them in their uni flat, so had probably never seen it, but the rest of them used to forgo eating at the dinner table on _River Cottage_ nights so they could dream about being gentleman farmers and foraging for food under bridges. 

It was a bizarre obsession for five or so teenage magic-users to have.

While Harry did the rune-work on what they were calling the den, Luna went back to exploring the outer reaches of the property and Neville tried to grow some legal crops in between shoveling dragon-dung onto the marijuana.

On the night the room was ready, Harry apparated to London for Indian and everyone crowded into the den for _River Cottage_.

Tibby scoffed - very quietly, of course, so it didn’t interrupt the show. But Neville had known him long enough to get the gist of, “Tibby already finds those plants for Master,” and “Not such a hard recipe. Why do wizards make everything so difficult?”

“He isn’t a wizard, Tibby,” Luna said. “He’s a muggle. They have to do things the long way.”

“Muggle?” Tibby sat forward at this. “Tibby has never seen a muggle before.” Suddenly the show was much more fascinating

The show was a repeat - where Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall teaches some suburbanites to be pig farmers - but Neville and Harry didn’t mind since Tibby and Luna hadn’t seen it before. But it seemed to light a fire under Harry and at the end of the show he turned to look at them.

“I’m going to be a pig farmer.”

“What a good idea, Harry,” Luna said. “They can keep the moonhens company.”

“You know, there’s a muggle farming technique I read about called permaculture,” Neville said. “It would work really well here, with some animals to help.”

Harry stood up. “We should go make some plans.”

“Are you coming, Tibby?”

“Tibby wants to learn more about muggles.” 

And when Neville trailed after Harry and Luna, Tibby stayed right where he was in front of the TV.

 

It seemed to Neville like other people were taking over his life. Dean and Seamus deciding on crops and sales and whether magical drying methods would damage the goods (then trying it before testing the results and deciding it was all good). Harry and Luna shipping in livestock, erecting fencing, telling him not to worry about the money (”it’s my daft idea, Nev”).

“Do I get a say on anything in my life?” he asked when he walked into his (his) greenhouse and found the four of them working.

“Not about this, mate,” Seamus said, as he pointed his wand at bag after bag of dried leaves and buds and put the shrunken version in a box.

“When’s your mortgage payment due? We’ll try to get you your first payment by then.”

“Two weeks today.” Luna was the one who replied to Dean, and Neville didn’t even want to know how she knew. Maybe the rumours that she was a seer were true.

“Plenty of time,” Dean said, shrinking the last bag. “Just have to be careful not to flood the market, since we can grow stuff magically so much easier than the muggles. Worse comes to worst, we’ll nick across the channel and sell some over there. This stuff would do well in Amsterdam.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows, which left Luna giggling and Harry shaking his head.

“Right,” Semaus said. “We’re off to sell the wizard. Or something. Don’t judge, I’m high.”

Which, yeah, there was a sort of haze floating near the ceiling of the greenhouse and it probably explained why Harry was lying on a bed of flowers making fireworks shoot from his wand.

“Just don’t feed these scraps to the pigs, yeah?”

“You’re worrying too much, Nev,” Harry said. Then Neville felt a foot hook around his ankle and suddenly he was lying on top of Harry Potter and sure he’d had fantasies about this in high school - what red-blooded wizard attracted to wizards hadn’t? - but he never expected a high Harry Potter to drag him down and stare into his eyes as if he were looking for Neville’s soul.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a contact high,” Dean said, sending an air-clearing spell towards the ceiling. “It’ll wear off quickly.”

“You need a hug,” Harry said very seriously as Dean and Seamus headed out, and then Neville found himself nestled against Harry Potter’s chest, with Harry Potter’s chin resting atop his hair and Harry Potter’s erection nudging insistently against his thigh. 

Neville tried to at least move his thigh away, but it only made the situation worse. 

“Sorry. Think the dope makes me horny. Don’t take it the wrong way.” And Neville wanted to tell him he’d never _presume_ that Harry could be interested in him, but Harry was patting his head awkwardly, like he was a child giving comfort to an adult and Neville was still too shocked to say anything.

“Oh. Is it hug time?” Luna asked, suddenly realising that the two of them were beside her. She rolled over, on top of Neville, and Harry was kissing her cheek over his head and he was squished between his two housemates - tenants! - desperately trying to imagine Snape having sex with his Gran because he didn’t have a contact high to excuse his growing hard on.

“Shh…” Harry whispered in his ear. “You need to relax.”

“Mmm,” Luna added. “Would it help if I sang?”

And Neville wanted to say no, it would not help, because this was the least relaxing position he’d ever been in, and he’d killed Voldemort’s snake. But something about the Gaelic lullaby she sang eased something in him and slowly the tension drained from his muscles until Luna stopped singing and Harry’s soft snores were the only sounds in the greenhouse.

 

The next two significant things to happen in Neville’s life occurred almost two weeks later, and on the same day.

Firstly, Dean dropped off a bag containing enough galleons to keep the goblins quiet for the next two months. And secondly, a muggle came knocking at their door.

Neville didn’t know about the muggle at first, because Luna had insisted on flying pigs, which were hard to keep in their pen and liked to destroy the flower beds when they got out. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, but Neville had pulled out his Gran’s sadly neglected roses and planted enough cabbages and carrots to keep them in food for the winter, so long as they didn’t end up in the pig’s stomachs first.

So he and Harry were rounding them up and it was Luna who let in their new guest.

“Maybe Hermione can do something with runes?” Harry was saying as they walked into the kitchen.

“Maybe we can send them all back and get some Berkshires,” Neville grumbled. “Or what about Mangalistas? I read about those. Luna would love them. They’re pigs with wool - like sheep!”

“Sure, but you have to convince -” Harry stopped. “Hi?”

Neville looked around his shoulders and saw Luna handing tea to a young-ish, blond man sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Did you get the pigs in?” Luna asked.

“Yes…” Neville said, then he waited. And waited. And finally, “Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Luna?”

“Oh, of course!” 

Neville saw Harry roll his eyes as he moved around to pour the both of them some tea while Neville stepped forward for the introductions.

“This is David,” Luna said, and stopped. 

“I’m Neville,” Neville finally said, stepping forward to shake David’s hand. “This is Harry.” Harry lifted a tea-cup in salute. 

“Pleased to meet you,” David said in a plummy British accent.

“Sorry, I don’t recognise you, though you’re clearly British. What house were you in?”

David looked a bit confused. “Angelo’s.”

Neville and Harry exchange a confused look. “Did you go to school in Italy?” If he was a couple of years younger than them it would make sense; rumours had started flying about a new Dark Lord when Sirius Black had escaped. 

“No, I went to Eton. Stuck up school, if there ever was one.” He took a sip of his tea. “This is great stuff, Luna. Thanks.”

Harry was staring wide-eyed at the man, but Eton was tickling something in Neville’s memory. “Eton. Is that where Justin was going to go?”

“Justin who?” Luna asked.

“Finch-Fletchley. Our year. He was a Puff.”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, but David perked up.

“You’re some of Justin’s lot? Wow! I thought I saw pigs flying as I walked in, but figured it was just the weed, you know? A real wizard household. Amazing.”

Harry turned on his heel and walked out of the room and David looked at Luna. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Harry just worries,” Luna said. 

“So how did you come to be here?” Neville asked.

“Oh, I was just driving aimlessly, trying to decide where to go to next and drove past the gates. Saw the sign about vacancies and decided to walk in. Can the gates open? I’d like to get my car off the road, even if it doesn’t see much use. The road, I mean, not the car.”

Harry walked back in, Justin trailing behind him.

“David?”

“Justin! Look! I’m in a wizard house!”

Justin turned to him as if looking for an explanation, but Neville could only shrug.

“Well, if you’re staying we should get you in a room. I’ll let you know the cost when I convert it to pounds. Tibby!”

Tibby popped up in front of him and David jumped a little before leaning forward. “Little dude!”

“Yes, Master Neville.”

“David will be staying with us. Could you please show him to a guest room that’s been finished?” 

Luna had been doing small repairs room by room and they had a few that they could rent out.

“Yes, Master Neville. Please follow me.”

“Sure thing, little dude,” David said, and he grabbed his bag and wandered out of the kitchen.

Harry immediately turned to Justin. “This house has muggle-repelling charms. I strengthened them myself when I moved in.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Harry. As far as I know he’s completely muggle.”

“How do you know him?” Neville asked.

“Didn’t he say? Typical. David’s my cousin. I mean, thank Merlin, right?” Justin said with a smile.

“What?”

“Well, he finished at Eton, went on a gap year to the US, surfed and smoked dope all along the California coast and returned to England a complete stoner. The family don’t ask what I’m doing with myself even though I’m pretty hidden away in the Wizarding world, because they’re too busy gossiping about David wasting his life.”

“But he knew about magic,” Harry said.

“Yeah, we were pretty close growing up and he saw some things that couldn’t be explained. He was clued in to the secret.”

“Why aren’t you worried, Luna?” Harry asked.

“If you grow it, they will come,” she said in a dreamy voice before drifting out the back door into the garden. Neville didn’t understand why Justin and Harry took one look at each other before bursting into snorting laughter. 

David wandered back in then and slapped a large hand on Neville’s back. “Did I miss a joke? No worries. I saw your greenhouses on my walk down.” He looked so eager. “Can I help?”

 

With the goblins off his case for a couple of months and David happy to ‘weed the weed’ and he was fond of saying, Neville could stop worrying for a bit and concentrate on a plan for the medium-term, rather than all this illegal cloak and dagger stuff.

Not that he did much cloak-and-daggering. Really, all he did was grow plants and with judicious application of dragon dung, marijuana really did grow itself. Still, he was generally a law-abiding citizen, when the laws weren’t written by Death Eater scum, so he didn’t plan to stay in the business forever.

So he began to plan his permaculture garden which actually involved quite a bit of construction work, so he asked Harry to help him rip up paving stones and concrete over the next week. 

“Are you sure you want to do that, Nev? I mean, isn’t it tradition?”

“It’s just a garden design. It’s changed in the past. Not since the 1800s, I don’t think, but change isn’t bad. And then we can grow everything we could possibly need around the house and put some stuff to sell in the greenhouses -”

“Yeah, baby!” David interjected.

“Like potions ingredients, so I could start supplying apothecaries. But if we can be self-sufficient in food it would really help the budget. And this is such a brilliant growing system because it -”

“Okay, you don’t need to explain it again,” Harry said with a laugh. Still, he seemed wistful and Neville was worried he’d upset him.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t -”

“It’s not that, Nev.”

“Harry’s never had a home,” Luna said. And that wasn’t any seer tendencies, that was Luna really knowing people, like she’s always done. Neville felt like a bit of a git for not thinking of it. Potter Manor had been destroyed early in the first war, and Godric’s Hollow obviously gone the same way. Any family history he’d had had been lost. 

“Luna, it’s -” Harry was going to dismiss his own feelings, like he always did, but Luna stopped him, by pressing a hand to his cheek and a kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay, Harry. But Longbottom Hall still has plenty of history and now we’ll put our own stamp on it for future generations.”

“Like other Longbottoms have done before us,” Neville added.

“Oh, not we. I mean, we’re just boarders.”

Neville reached his hand across to lay on Harry’s. “Yes,” he said, looking into Harry’s eyes, and it felt like a promise. Luna put her small hand over the top of theirs. “We.”

“We,” David said adding his hand to the pile. “That was beautiful guys.” 

Neville had honestly forgot he was there.

 

So the next day Harry and he began removing the old garden beds and paths. Even with a mix of magic and non-magical techniques, it was still hot as blazes and soon they were working shirtless and Neville was glad that manual labour in the garden and his late-teen growth spurt meant he wasn’t that pudgy kid Harry had first met. 

Because Harry was built. Neville knew Harry had kept up his physical training after leaving the Aurors, but it was one thing to know the guy was strong and another to see all those pecs and abs glistening in sweat, a line of hair running down from his navel and disappearing into his shorts. 

Neville was going to drop a stone on his foot, he just knew it. _Featherweight charm_ , he told himself. _Then it won’t break your toes._

They were keeping as much as possible to see if it could be reused, necessity being the mother of all recycling efforts, as Luna put it. So Neville was carrying a large rock towards the pile when Harry walked past and clapped him on the arm. 

“Looking good, Nev,” Harry said with a grin, and yep. There went the rock, right towards his feet. Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -”

“Just, you know, ticklish,” Neville said quickly, hoping the heat would explain the rapid heating of his face.

“On your bicep?”

“Um.” Thankfully Neville was saved from answering further by a banging door on the porch. They looked up to see Luna settling into a chair, a pitcher of iced tea by her side. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, glad of the distraction.

“Just enjoying the view.”

Neville turned around. The vista would be pretty if it didn’t show the most neglect of the lands. He turned back around to question her and noticed Harry grinning, hands on his hips and chest puffed out and oh. Oh! Luna meant them. He felt his face heating up again and bent to pick up the rock he’d just dropped to hide it.

“You have excellent taste, Luna!” Harry called, and this time he gave Neville a slap on the arse before heading on his way, and Neville could only be glad that he’d added the featherweight charm, because this time the thing landed on his foot.

 

That night David had disappeared into the nearest town to meet some ‘old school chums’, so they finally had a moment to discuss his actual appearance.

“Maybe he’s a squib,” Harry said.

Luna and Neville just looked at him. 

“A squib, is by definition, a non-magical person born to magical parents. How can he be a squib?” Neville asked.

“No. Hear me out,” Harry said. “A squib isn’t completely non-magical.”

“What?” Even Luna looked skeptical at that.

“A non-magical person is, by definition,” he added in a smarmy way, “a muggle. So if squibs were truly non-magical they would also be affected by muggle-repelling wards. But they live in magical households when they’re young. Filch could get into Hogwarts. Mrs Figg could get into the Ministry of Magic for my trial. So they must have some small amount of latent magic. Not enough to control, but enough to get past the muggle-repelling charms of the Ministry and the school. 

“What if some muggles have the same thing? I mean Justin had enough power to come to school, what if his cousin had a little bit, but not enough to get a letter. Not enough to really do anything besides see through our charms?”

Neville shrugged. “Makes more sense than anything else I’ve come up with.”

“Hermione would know,” Harry added, and all three of them nodded.

“It’s a good theory, Harry,” Luna said. “It’s wrong, but it’s a good theory.”

“How do you know it’s wrong?”

“I just do,” she said, with a small, secret smile. “If you grow it, they will come.”

Harry grinned, but Neville frowned. Luna had said that before, hadn’t she?

“Come on,” Harry said. “Let’s worry about this later. I bought a copy of _Field of Dreams_ last time I was in London.”

 

“She’s not one of yours,” David said of the naked woman sitting at Neville’s kitchen table. “But we shared a joint last night and she needed a place to sleep, you know?”

“Did she share your room?”

“She did!” David clapped a hand on his back with a grin. “But if you have a spare bedroom she’ll definitely stay on for a bit. She loves witches.”

Neville nodded, then - what? But David had already moved into the kitchen so Neville couldn’t tell him about the Statute of Secrecy. He felt another hand on his back and turned to find Harry sending him a grin.

“Morning, Nev.”

“Hey.”

“What’s - is that a naked woman in our kitchen?”

Neville felt warm with the idea that is was _their_ kitchen - his and Harry’s and Luna’s - but then had to remind himself that Harry was his boarder and he should get over himself. He nodded in answer to Harry’s question.

“Why is she naked?”

Neville shrugged.

“Do we know her name?”

“Rainbow. Rainbow Wolfsinger.”

Harry looked down as he swallowed his smile. “Well, it’s better than Draco, isn’t it?”

Neville burst into laughter at the absurdity of names and naked women and his life at the moment and after a moment Harry joined in.

David was giving them a sharp look, but Rainbow looked over at them and smiled. “Nothing like a good laugh to clear the negative energy away,” she said serenely.

“The boys’ heads are always full of nargles,” Luna said as she walked in the other door, hands full of eggs. 

Harry turned, back towards the kitchen, and mouthed _there are two of them_.

Neville just shook his head as he pushed past Harry and reached his hand out to Rainbow, resolutely not looking at any of her… assets. “I’m Neville,” he said.

Unfortunately for Neville’s resolution, Rainbow ignored his hand and stood, walking around the table to Neville. “Neville,” she said. “Merry met.” Then she hugged him, her (full, pendulous) breasts pressing into his chest and pressed her cheek to his. “You must be Harry. Merry met,” she said as she moved to hug him. Harry’s wide-eyed look of shock sent David into giggles.

“I’m Luna.”

“Luna. That’s a beautiful name. I’m Rainbow. Merry met, Luna.”

“Merry met, Rainbow,” Luna said, walking into the hug that lasted far longer than any of the others.

“I feel strangely uncomfortable,” Neville murmured.

“I don’t!” David replied.

Luna rolled her eyes at them and stepped away to cook them breakfast while Neville slipped out of the room to tell Tibby to avoid their newcomer.

 

It turned out that Rainbow was a Wiccan, of “no particular tradition; I’m a solitary practitioner” and she thought the three of them were something called ancestral witches. 

The nudity was something else altogether; that Neville still didn’t have an explanation for.

At least she was dressed when she walked up to him in the garden. “Can I help?” 

“Of course,” Neville said, and it turned out she knew all about permaculture and before the end of the day the two of them were bent over some paper drawing up plans. 

“You know,” she said, when they finally sat back satisfied, “you can often find permaculture students willing to come out and help with planting.”

“Oh, I don’t think…”

“I can’t get internet service out here, which is a lovely break really, but when I’m back in town I’ll put a call out, get you some helpers.”

“Thanks, Rainbow, really, but I’m not sure…”

“Nonsense. Consider it done.”

Rainbow hid her dominant personality under layers of woo, but it was definitely there. Unfortunately, Neville’s ability to stand up to those sorts of personalities was still limited to the chance of losing house points and leading a guerilla cell in a war against the forces of evil.

Rainbow, they thought, probably came through with David and that’s why she could see the place. Whatever call Rainbow put out, none of the muggles were ever going to find them.

 

Neville hated being wrong. It happened a lot, especially in school, so he was kind of used to it, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He especially hated being wrong about things that might affect their safety. It was a number of years since the war ended, but that didn’t mean any of them were over it.

This was a particularly egregious error, as Hermione had said as she observed the ‘combo vans’ driving in through the gates.

“Rainbow said she put something online, but I thought that they wouldn’t be able to find us.”

“You’ve messed your muggle-repelling charm up,” she replied, squinting up the road.

“ _I_ haven’t; they were here when I got here. Talk to Harry, he strengthened them.”

“Harry, you messed your muggle-repelling charms up,” she said, as Harry walked out the door with a coffee.

“Hey! I did not. I - are we hosting a VW convention? Oh, no. That one’s a Ford campervan or something. What’s going on?”

“Rainbow,” Neville replied, and Harry just hummed in understanding. Since Rainbow’s arrival the week previous, the house had been whipped into shape, with sheets from the local Op Shop on all the beds, mattresses and rugs aired and anything unrepairable thrown in a big pile, “for the bonfire.” She’d said it was for all the helpers, and Neville hadn’t the heart to tell her no one would turn up. Thank Merlin he’d just let her get on with it.

Luna was out there in the midst of it, greeting people with hugs and kisses like they were old friends and handing out snozberry cordial like it was going out of style.

“Is that-? Oh, my God. I can’t.” With that Hermione turned around and five seconds later he heard the Floo activate. Neville figured she must have realised that Rainbow’s shirt was completely see-through today.

David was walking towards them, arm wrapped around a handsome ginger-haired guy who wouldn’t have looked out of place among the Weasleys.

“Harry? I want you to meet Harry,” David said with a grin. Harry breathed his coffee in and started choking. “His brother Will was in my class at Eton,” David added with a wink.

“I’m Neville,” Neville said, holding his hand out. “This is my place. Thanks for coming to help out.”

“Yeah, not a problem. Look, I know you can’t in front of everyone else, but do you think I could see some magic before I go?”

Neville turned to glare at David.

“Oh, it wasn’t David who told me. It’s just one of those things one hears. The Longbottoms did some stuff for my family oh, generations ago. And, of course, everyone’s heard of Harry Potter.”

“O-of course, Sir,” Harry stuttered out.

“It’s just Harry, Harry.”

At that Harry a chuckled, a blush staining his cheeks. “Sure, Harry. Um… you can pick any room that’s not already taken.”

“Thanks,” he said and walked in through the doors.

 

It seemed like everyone who turned up at Rainbow’s call was a stoner who was absolutely delighted to discover that Wizard Weed, as Seamus had named it, was part of the benefits package of helping out around the place, along with regular meals and a place to sleep. 

The flying pigs were all under a glamour charm, spells to stop them flying vigorously applied every morning, and thankfully the moonhens looked like all other hens except when they were glowing under the light of the full moon. 

Dean and Seamus found it hilarious. 

“First you start growing weed, and now you have a hippy commune!” Dean was crowing. Seamus was laughing too hard to speak.

“I’m sure this is your fault somehow, and when I find out how I’m going to make you pay,” Neville said, angrily shoving bags of dried marijuana in Seamus’ satchel. 

“Come now, Neville,” Seamus said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Don’t be like that. You’ve got loads of help for yer plans, money coming in from the boarders and lots of interesting company. From out here they certainly seem like a game lot.”

Seamus and Dean had apparated directly to the greenhouse to avoid introducing another magical element to the already complicated mystery of the magical muggles. But from the greenhouse all three of them could see the group, which had settled into an even dozen, taking their break near the kitchen door.

Four - including Harry (Potter - the ginger one had been called back home) - were playing with something called a hacky sak. Another four were sitting around getting high, which was a common occupation, and the final four, plus Rainbow, David and Luna were laying lunch out on tables along the back porch.

“Is that food? Are we invited?”

“No. Shut up both of you and get out of here.” He thrust the satchel into Seamus’ arms. 

“Alright, alright. Who knew you’d be such a hard taskmaster. We’ll be back with more money for you soon.”

The money had definitely come in handy. Neville looked down at the pouch of coins in his hands. Enough for another month’s mortgage as well as making sure all of his helpers were fed until the project was done. 

The greenhouse door pushed open.

“Are Dean and Seamus gone already?” Luna asked in her lilting voice.

“They wouldn’t stop laughing at me, so I sent them off.”

She stepped forward, so that he could reach out and stroke her hair if he wished. He manfully resisted the urge. “They shouldn’t laugh,” she said. “They come because you grow it, but they stay because of you.”

It made as much sense as anything she ever said, but he thought the sentiment was nice anyway.

“Come get some lunch,” she said, and she took his hand to lead him back to the house.

Even with the core dozen still hanging around, laying out garden beds and building straw bale pig pens, plenty of muggles wandered in off the street after seeing their sign. 

Meals were free-range and organic and had vegan options. The plumbing spells had to be reset every morning to handle the large number of people. Every time he turned a corner there was a hacky sak game, or a deep discussion about environmental problems he hadn’t realised existed, or Rainbow convincing people to dance naked - “it’s skyclad, Neville, I’m surprised you didn’t know that” - as the sun rose over the hill on the horizon.

And Neville?

Neville loved it.

“It always felt like a mausoleum, well you probably know,” he told his Dad that weekend. “I don’t think Gran changed that much. But now it’s so full of life. There are people everywhere and they’re all _nice_ people, you know? People interested in saving the world and bringing more love and happiness to everyone. 

“I think Harry especially likes it,” he murmured, careful not to talk loud enough for Harry, loitering near the door, to hear. “So many years with those horrible muggles, then always war and fighting after he got to Hogwarts. I only had one year of it, and I get nightmares. I think Harry spent so long trying to save people he has no idea how to save himself. 

“But this is helping. Everyone just squeezes hands and gives hugs and always has a kind word. Me and Harry never really had that. Luna either - it was just her and her dad for so long. Rainbow says we all seem touch-starved. Apparently that’s a thing. I’ve gotta admit, all the hugs are nice.”

Neville blushed. Harry and Luna’s hugs especially, but he wasn’t ready to admit that, even to his father who couldn’t tell anyone. 

“Alright, mate?” Harry said.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready to go. Luna?” He looked across at Luna, who was happily telling his mother about Snorcack hunting on the Longbottom grounds. She’d taken a few of the guys out the day before; they hadn’t found anything, and Neville had heard some of their guests wondering if she lit up a joint before she even got out of bed in the morning.

“Wouldn’t be the only one,” they’d said with a laugh. Any oddness among the wizards and witches was put down to being stoned, or raised by ancestral wiccans, or just accepted as a beautiful part of their unique souls. Neville remembered Luna in school; her unique soul wasn’t very accepted. This was healing all of them.

“Bye, Dad,” Neville said, pressing a kiss to his father’s forehead. He walked around and said good bye to his mum and they walked out of St Mungo’s and into London. 

“Thanks for, you know, coming with me,” he murmured.

Luna wrapped herself around his arm, giving it a hug, while Harry rolled his eyes. “You didn’t need to thank us the first time,” he said. “You certainly don’t need to thank us the fourth.”

They’d offered to keep him company that first week they were both living there. Offered was perhaps the wrong word - Luna had been waiting at the floo, dressed in her best robes, as if she knew exactly where he was going. Harry, when he realised where they were going, grabbed an outer robe that he’d possibly had since Hogwarts, and flooed through after them. 

Neville liked the company. And he liked that his parents liked the company; new people saying hi, and new stories from Luna. Harry was clearly uncomfortable in the hospital, though whether that was memories of when they finally got him there after the final battle, or of Mr Weasley’s injuries, or even the plaintive voice of Gilderoy Lockhart that drifted through the ward, Neville wasn’t sure.

Still, Harry insisted on coming and would always walk in and say a polite hello before holding up a piece of wall near the door. 

After the visit they went out for muggle take away and did any shopping they needed to do in Diagon Alley. After four Fridays like this, Neville was happy calling it tradition. 

After some greasy chicken they wandered through the Leaky, Neville intent on some new seeds, and Harry needing some advice from Magical Menagerie. 

“Maybe we could get a crup. I mean, it’s your place, Nev, but -”

“It’s the hippies!”

Neville groaned.

“I’m not a hippy. I’m a gentleman farmer,” Harry said.

“Yeah, tell that to your haircut, Potter.”

Harry, whose hair was getting rather long, poked his tongue out at Dean and Seamus while Luna gave them both enthusiastic hugs, which they returned happily.

“Aren’t you two meant to be out corrupting small children?” Neville asked.

“We don’t do that. Strictly 18 and over for us,” Dean replied.

“We just dropped in for a pint then we were going to head to yours,” Seamus added. “May as well go back with you now that we’ve seen you.”

“A pint? It’s barely two in the afternoon.”

“Exactly, Longbottom. _After_ lunch.”

“Well, sit down and enjoy your pint. We’ll come collect you after we’ve done our shopping.”

“Mighty sporting of you, Nev.”

“We’ll be waiting right here.”

They left their dealers to their beers and walked through to the alley. 

“You have no intention of coming back for them, do you?” Harry asked.

“None whatsoever.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay, so we’ll meet at the fountain in an hour?”

The fountain was a new addition to the alley, a surprisingly tasteful memorial to the dead of the last war. Neville and Luna nodded, but as they were about to walk away, Neville grabbed their hands.

“It’s not my house, it’s ours. Yours for as long as you want to stay. I don’t mind if you want a pet, but you can’t get a two-tailed dog while we’ve got muggles around the place. It’s a dog or a kneazle, Harry.”

Harry gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s go to the pound on the way home.”

Luna kissed his cheek and they went their separate ways.

 

Harry had fallen in love with a slightly older dog of unknown origin and breeding who had been in the pound for some months and who, in the words of the volunteer, “just wants someone to give all that love to.”

One of the mutt’s ears wouldn’t stand up and she was, unfortunately missing one eye, but she was happy, loved cuddles, and was already house-trained. The pound had been calling her Indie since she’d come to them, so they decided to keep the name. 

She was happily exploring the path between the town and the house, when Neville noticed two figures lounging hear his gates.

“More muggles do you think?” Harry asked, peering through his glasses.

“Worse.”

“We knew you’d just leave us there, you pikers,” Seamus said.

“That’s just rude, you know,” Dean added, squatting down so Indie could give him a good sniff. “You’re getting a practice baby already?”

Neville just rolled his eyes and pushed the gate, which had taken him a good three days to fix up, open. 

“You can bite him, Indie. You won’t get punished,” Luna said.

“Oi!”

Neville could hear some pushing and shoving behind him, but ignored it, knowing Harry would have stepped in to defend Luna.

“Do you reckon we could give her an eye like Mad-Eye’s?” Seamus asked and everyone paused, obviously thinking about it.

“Leave the poor dog alone. She’s beautiful as she is,” Luna said, and everyone nodded and kept on towards the gate.

“Seamus! Should’ve known you’d be a friend of Neville’s!” said Raven, working in the orchard.

“Dean! Good to see you mate.” Sebastian waved from the pig pen.

“Found your supplier, boys!” said Amber as she walked past. 

Seamus’ head turned to follow her and when he turned back he had to stop dead to avoid walking into Rainbow.

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I know you,” she said. “How do I know you?”

“Uhh…” Seamus said, looking slightly petrified.

“You got stoned with me one night one night in Leeds, with your free sample, and when I woke up my van was in Lovesome Bloody Hill. Nice name for a town and all, but I’m almost in Durham.”

“Er,” Seamus said, looking down at his feet. 

“Bloody Irish charmers,” Rainbow added. “You didn’t even leave me a number so I could buy some more. Good thing I found the source, eh?”

She planted a kiss on Seamus’ cheek. “You staying for dinner?”

“So it turned out everyone knew Seamus or Dean!” Harry laughed as he told his story at their monthly get together at the Three Broomsticks. “I guess the it’s a small world after all, at least among the marijuana set.”

Seamus was having a laugh, but Dean looked a lot more uncomfortable at the story being told. Neville didn’t want the story bandied about too far either: the Aurors might not care too much about muggles getting their hands on wizard-grown dope, but the risk to the Statute of Secrecy might not be something they could overlook, and there were two aurors-in-training at the table.

“So you still don’t know why they’re turning up?” Hermione asked, getting right to the heart of the matter that Neville would rather not examine.

“I guess you’re right and my muggle-repelling charms didn’t work. I don’t want to fix them, though, because all the help has been useful, and Luna likes the company. Right, Luna?”

Harry reached behind Neville’s back to place his hand on Luna’s neck, and Luna leaned forward with a grin to squeeze Harry’s thigh, leaving Neville in the middle getting squished from both sides.

Not an altogether bad place to be.

He looked at his lap so the rest of his friends couldn’t see his smile that was threatening to turn into a grin, but then Hermione stepped in. 

“You need to take this seriously.”

Smile gone.

“We’re taking it very seriously. We have a serious work plan for everyone, serious room rates for those not helping with the garden and a serious bonfire planned for after the moonhen thing this Friday night.”

“Friday’s the full moon.”

“Well, we don’t have any werewolves, so I think we’re okay.”

“How can you be sure?” she said snippily. “If your muggle-repelling charms aren’t working, your werewolf-repelling ones certainly won’t be.”

“Oh, there are too many nargles on Longbottom Hall grounds for werewolves to get in,” Luna said. She leant forward. “You see, the nargles are attracted to the brains of muggles who smoke marijuana. When the muggles smoke the nargles drift away. There are quite a few of them floating around the border now. No werewolf will be able to get in.”

“Oh, _honestly_ , Luna.”

“Yes, Hermione. Honestly.”

Hermione opened her mouth, obviously ready to continue the conversation, but she glanced at Harry and sat back instead. Neville looked at Harry and noticed a glare on his face, though the hand that was reaching past Neville’s shoulders and playing with Luna’s hair was still gentle.

Ron smoothly stepped into all that awkward silence.

“’Mione’s right about one thing. The muggles are an issue.” He leaned back against the Auror trainee robes draped over his chair. “You’ve got magical plants, a house elf, flying pigs, moonhens… There are all sorts of ways for them to figure out you’re more than muggle hippy religious types and are honest-to-Merlin magical people.”

“If they see anything like that they’ll assume that they’re high.”

“Even the kids?”

“A near-constant contact high. It’s kind of scary. But they’re being raised in this idea that anything is possible and magic is around us. It’s beautiful. I want to take them to see unicorns.”

“Harry!” 

It was interesting to hear how the Golden Trio talked things like this through. By the silence of everyone else at the table, he wasn’t the only one enjoying the show.

“All I’m saying,” Ron said, “is that we can’t ignore it forever. The house needs to be honest-to-Merlin non-magical, or the muggle-repelling charms need to work, even if it’s just on parts of the house and grounds that _are_ magical. Ernie and I can’t ignore it forever.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry and Neville, and Neville knew that the message there was that Ernie MacMillan was exactly the kind of brown-noser that would turn them in if he thought it would help him gain some influence in his graduating class. Probably the only reason it hadn’t already been brought up was because their group had a bit of an untouchable aura as a whole, what with the experience of their final year and the role they played in the Battle of Hogwarts. 

“Yeah, alright, we’ll figure something out.”

“Harry,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “You can’t mean _all_ of them are drug addicts.”

“Well, from my research marijuana isn’t as addictive as other types of narcotics, and the group we have staying with us are just people looking for love and peace in the world rather than ruining their -”

“Harry!”

“Every single one is a pothead, ‘Mione,” Neville put in.

“Interesting.”

“Definitely, if you’re living with them.” Neville stood. “I’m getting another pint. Anyone want one?”

There was a round of ‘ayes’ and Neville walked over to the bar to spend some of his not-that-hard-earned dope money on beer. Dean joined him at the bar moments later.

“Why do you look so worried?” Neville asked.

“Look.” Dean looked around to make sure no one was listening. “The marijuana smoking population of Great Britain is not actually that small. The likelihood that every pothead to turn up at your door being someone that we sold to… is actually pretty small.”

“So? You’re selling to people in the area, and they happen to drive past our place. Hell, some of them Seamus is practically dropping on our doorstep,” Neville said, thinking of Rainbow in Lovesome Hill.

“Yeah, I guess. But-”

A hand clapped on each of their shoulders. “What are you two gossiping about over here?” Seamus asked. 

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly.

“Then what’s taking my beer so long?”

Neville rolled his eyes and caught Rosmerta’s eye, smiling as she nodded and started making their drinks.

“You know what we should gossip about?” Seamus said. “Your wacky little threesome with the delectable Miss Lovegood and The Boy Who Lived.”

Were his crushes that obvious? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neville said.

“No? All that cuddling at the table?”

“They’re cuddling with each other; I think they like each other. I was just in the way.” He’d moved so that Harry could move closer to Luna and cut him out of the middle if they wanted to cuddle. No need for him to be the middleman.

“Sure,” Seamus said, sounding not sure at all. “Look, no judgment, mate. I just didn’t expect it of you. Honestly thought you’d have married Hannah Abbott by now and she would have pushed out another couple of Longbottoms for Hogwarts’ dorms. Instead you’re shacked up in a free love commune with Loony Lovegood and Harry Bloody Potter. Snakeslayer indeed!”

“What the hell does Snakeslayer have to do with this conversation.”

“I think he means that Harry has a snake between his legs,” Dean said, sounding vaguely amused.

“I’d believe it of Harry, maybe,” Seamus continued. “He was bound to crack eventually, what with all the pressure, and Luna’s always seemed the adventurous sort, but you?”

“Tell you what. Keep talking about them like that and you won’t be able to gossip past your fat lip.”

“Woah!” Seamus held up his hands in a universal ‘no harm intended’ way that reminded Neville of why he’d always been a pain in the arse to live with. “No offense intended, I’m sure.”

“Mmhmm.” Neville grabbed the tray of drinks. “Thanks, Rosmerta. Put them on Seamus’ tab.”

“Oi!”

“Sure thing, Neville.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Neville turned and immediately stopped. Because where he had expected to see Harry and Luna sitting beside each other, their casual touches turned into full-on snuggling, was… not.

Harry’s hand was still playing with the hair at the nape of Luna’s neck. Luna’s hand was still on Harry’s knee, thumb idly stroking back and forth. And between them was still an empty chair.

“Just in the way, huh?” Seamus murmured. “I don’t think I could sit in that seat. Like trying to get a square peg in a Neville shaped hole.”

Neville ignored Seamus’ comment, but couldn’t ignore the warm ball of hope that empty chair left in his chest.

 

Neville came home from another meeting with Mr Boswick to find a full house. And not in the normal way. Ron was chatting to a couple of the current boarders, George was chasing the kids around the lawn and Padma was bent over garden plans with Rainbow. 

In the distance he could see Lavender smiling coyly at David, who showed no signs of leaving, Millicent Bulstrode - Ron’s partner in Auror training - was laughing gaily as she helped Daisy and Luna stack wood into a bonfire. 

It was the full moon which meant the moonhen ritual, but Neville just couldn’t talk to anyone at the moment. He waved to people as he walked through the house to the media room, which given the weather and the number of people outside was going to be empty.

It wasn’t empty.

Hermione was in there, one hand clutched around a mobile phone, the other up near her mouth. She was biting her thumb nail in that way she did when one of her theories was being put to the test.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll…” 

No one would be in his bedroom. He could sulk there for at least half hour.

“No, no. Come in, Neville.”

Damn. He stepped in and closed the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Just waiting for a phone call. Not sure if I want it to come or not.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry, I’ll explain when I know. How are you? You look tired.”

“Just… meeting with Mr Boswick today.”

Hermione’s face twisted into disdain. Her opinion of Boswick was that he’s a hack, and he didn’t become any greater in her esteem when Neville shared the tale of walking in on Boswick and his gran naked by the fire.

“He says there’s nothing he can do about compensation from the LeStranges. And it’s not that I want compensation, really, I just want money for Mum and Dad’s care and why wasn’t all this done when I was still a baby?”

“Because Boswick’s an idiot?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Neville sank into the nearest armchair. “I just wanted to hide out for a little bit. There are so many people here. It feels like I’m never alone anymore.”

Hermione’s mouth twisted again. “You know, Nev, you can send everyone away. All the muggles and us, and even Luna and Harry. If you don’t want what the two of them are offering… I mean. You deserve to be happy, too. And I know Harry - and Luna! - would be disappointed, but it has to be what you want.”

Sending everyone away sounded vaguely tempting, but not Luna and Harry. This was their house. Sending everyone except Luna and Harry away would be good, and they could go back to quiet breakfasts with Luna cooking for them, movie nights cuddled on the couch and that warm feeling of belonging. 

But he had another bill from St Mungo’s, so everyone who was paying for room and board got to stay.

Still, Hermione was the second one to suggest more to their relationship than existed. Normally she was smarter than that. “They’re not offering anything, Hermione. We’re just friends. Not that I wouldn’t… I mean, I love them both -” He buried his face in his hands; he hadn’t meant to let that slip out. “I think they’re interested in each other,” he finally said. “And I’m not going to let my crushes on them stand in the way of that. And they’re welcome to stay as long as they like.”

Hermione sat on the arm of the chair and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “You’re a good friend, Neville Longbottom. They’re lucky to have you.” He felt her lips press against the top of his head, then she whispered, “but if you don’t think they want to pull you down to the nearest flat surface and have their way with you then you’re dumber than I thought.”

Neville was saved from answering by the ringing of the phone. 

“Hi, Geraldine? … Yes, I’m at the house… Can’t find it? It’s on Longbottom Lane… Did you try your GPS? … What do you mean the GPS can’t find it either? … No, I guess I must’ve got the address wrong. But don’t worry about me. I’m sorry for putting you out, but the owner’s brother dropped in and he had jump cables, so we’ve managed to start the car… Oh, I’m in a hurry to get to Newcastle, but I’ll drop in on my way home.”

There were a lot of “uh-huhs” and “of courses” and Hermione rolling her eyes. “Yes, look Gerry, I have to go. Love to Aunt Angie. Bye!”

She pressed a button on the phone and dropped it on the table. 

“Well,” she said. “That answers that. You up to coming out for the muggle explanation? I only want to explain once.”

“Sure. Just let me get out of my good suit.”

“Okay. And Neville? Think about what I said. I know Harry well enough to know when he’s interested in someone, and Luna doesn’t exactly hide her interest. They’re waiting on you, so if you want it - want them - go for it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. And I’ll tell Harry he has to be a little more obvious if he wants to get through your thick skull.” She said it with a grin, so he didn’t take offense. “I’ll see you in the study in ten.”

 

Neville quickly threw his robes in the hamper, followed by his suit, and pulled on comfortable, faded jeans and a t-shirt that said ‘Best Bud’ with a picture of a marijuana leaf on it. He glanced in the mirror. He needed a haircut, or he’d wind up with a queue like Draco’s dad had. 

Everyone was right. He did look like a hippy. “Far out,” he murmured to the mirror, before turning and padding barefoot towards the study. 

He passed some of their boarders on his way down, getting an arm squeeze or a kiss on the cheek as he went, and it made him smile. He didn’t realise, when he moved back home, that he was in dire need of community - of belonging - until all the people had started turning up.

Luna’s little _Field of Dreams_ saying was beyond bizarre - he wasn’t growing much of anything besides marijuana still, but people were still coming and he liked it. 

He pushed the door open and -

“Oh.”

All the magical people had gathered and they turned to look at him.

“What?” Ron asked.

“It’s the marijuana. That’s what’s bringing them here.”

“Well, you rather stole my thunder,” Hermione said, “but yes. I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on. How did you figure it out?”

“If you grow it, they will come,” Neville said.

“Exactly,” Luna said with a grin.

“Well I figured it out with a bit of scientific observation. Scientific-ish.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I did an experiment.”

“Tell us about your experiment, Hermione,” Harry said, and so she did.

She’d asked her cousin, a vicar that lived close by and had never smoked drugs in her entire life, to come out and pick her up. She gave the same address to Geraldine as Rainbow had put on the internet. 

“If the house was visible to all muggles, Geraldine would have turned up on the doorstep. Instead she rang and said Longbottom Lane didn’t even exist and gave me a hard time about sending her on a wild goose chase when she needed to write her sermon.”

“Very Christian of her,” Dean murmured.

“Yes, well. Beside the point. Everyone here has smoked marijuana at some point in their life, or at least inhaled the smoke. More than that, they’ve all smoked _Neville’s_ marijuana. Whether it’s the magical growing methods, dragon dung or just being grown in an area saturated in magic, the plants themselves are calling to people who have smoked them.”

“So are these people going to just keep wandering in off the street? Drawn to Longbottom Hall? We’ve sold in Amsterdam and bloody Morocco,” Dean said.

“Well, that was the second part of the experiment.”

The door burst open and David walked in. “It looks like a ruin. Even with you all sitting here, it still looks like a bloody ruin.” He pulled a joint out of his pocket and lit up.

“Hey! No smoking in the house,” Harry said. 

“Shut up. Just let me -” He took another drag. “Oh, walls. House, beautiful house. I’ll never abandon you for so long again.” That time he was looking at the joint. Harry clicked his fingers and the flame extinguished, but David seemed happy.

“I asked David to go away for a couple of days and not smoke any marijuana.” Everyone looked skeptical at this. “Or any of Neville’s marijuana,” she clarified. “Then see if he could get back here.”

“I managed, but it was hard. Like, I thought I hadn’t paid the breakfast bill. Then I wondered about leaving the stove on, except God knows the last time I cooked. Then the lane seemed to be missing, hedge covering the entry, but I pushed on. Finally, I got here and it looked like a ruin. I went through the gates, because I knew it was here, but still a ruin. Even when I could see everyone outside. I called Tibby who led me here, but until I inhaled, it was all so much crumbling stone. Did you miss me?”

“Didn’t even notice you were gone, mate,” Harry said. David threw a pen at his head.

“Well,” Hermione said loudly. “That’s how you fix it. Stop selling narcotics and the muggles will stop coming.”

“You’d better keep supplying me and Rainbow. We’ll want to come back and visit.”

Rainbow, it turned out, had never moved into a separate room, and David was fairly smitten. 

“I can’t stop selling. Money’s okay, but only because we’ve got that income, and income from high muggles wandering through our doors.”

“I like it,” Harry said. “All the new people. Who don’t know who I am.”

“We’re fostering cross-cultural understanding,” Luna said, with that sly smile she sometimes got.

Ron and Millicent shared a look. “Put a stop date on it,” Millicent said. 

“What?”

“How long do you need to be selling to get the debtors off your back? Six months? A year?”

“Hopefully with a good crop of potions ingredients next year I can start selling those, rather than marijuana. So nine months?” That would take him over winter and well into spring.

“Okay. We will,” Ron shared another glance with Millicent, “look the other way for three months, as long as the Statute is not broken. In nine months you stop growing, except for one or two plants for Rainbow and David, and Longbottom Hall slowly fades from Muggle view again.”

“Deal. Thanks, Ron. Millicent.”

“I think you need to read Rainbow in, though,” David said. “She already knows there’s something weird, and she’d take it well.”

“I’ll tell her,” Luna said. “Then you two should come to the moonhen ceremony tonight.”

“That sounds great.”

 

“So are we just collecting the eggs?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do we have to worship them or something?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t think we have to sacrifice one do you?”

“David!” Neville said. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. Sorry.” He wandered over to Rainbow and Harry sauntered over. 

“So what _do_ you think we’re doing?”

“ _Harry_.”

“Sorry.” Harry bumped his arm against Neville’s as they milled around the back door waiting for Luna. “Listen, after this ceremonial egg collecting I’d like to talk to you. You and Luna, really. Hermione says I need to use my words and…” A blush stained Harry’s cheeks as his words trailed off, and Neville could feel his own cheeks heating up as well.

He rested his hand on Harry’s waist, then gave him a squeeze. “Yeah. After.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Luna called. “Everyone needs to be naked.”

“What?” It was Hermione who managed to talk when just about everyone else seemed frozen. Rainbow was already pulling her dress over her head.

“It’s part of the ceremony, Hermione.”

“If you think I’m tramping around the grounds naked to collect chicken eggs-”

“Moonhen eggs.”

“You have another think coming.”

“Is it really necessary?” George asked.

“It strengthens the magic in the eggs,” Luna replied. 

George shrugged and started unbuttoning his shirt. Like George, Neville had heard some weird requirements for magical ingredients, and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He’d just have to avoid looking at Luna or Harry for the duration.

“Can we at least wear our wellingtons?” Neville asked. “The ground is pretty cold tonight.”

Luna looked at him for a long time, holding his gaze as she drew her shift over her head, revealing moon-pale skin and full, high breasts and Neville gulped.

“Wellingtons should be fine.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay, then,” Hermione said.

“Hermione, you don’t have to join us. It was an invitation only,” Luna said gently. 

“Right.” Hermione paused. Neville thought she wouldn’t like giving up on something like this, but he also knew she could be a little funny about things. “Right. Well, I’ll see you all next week. Come on, Ronald.”

Ron looked a little mournful, but dutifully followed along. “Bye, guys.”

Rainbow looked mystified that anyone could _not_ want to be naked in front of their closest family and friends, but waved anyway.

Neville quickly dug out galoshes for any who didn’t have any and quick re-sizing spells were done. Still, he was still in his jeans, wishing desperately for his erection to go down so he could take them off without shame. A quick glance around showed none of the other men having this problem.

“Alright,” Luna said. “Off to the moonhen house.”

Everyone began trekking off, leaving Neville fingering the button of his jeans. 

“You coming, Nev,” Harry asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I -” He turned and pushed jeans and underwear down over his hips, pulling his galoshes on before turning again. “I’m ready.”

He didn’t hide it, tried to brazen it out, but he could feel Harry’s eyes on him. 

Luna had doubled back, and she ran a finger along the length of him, which, well, it _didn’t_ help.

“That’s a good omen,” she said. “It means they're particularly fertile and the magic will be stronger. It means the Moonhens like you."

“Sure and that’s _exactly_ what it means, Luna,” Seamus butted in.

“Shut it, Seamus,” Harry said, and when Neville glanced over he could see Harry was having the same problem he was. But maybe it wasn’t a problem. Maybe it _was_ a good omen.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”

And his life was surreal, surrounded by nude hippies, flying pigs, the sound of a bonfire in the distance and two amazing people who maybe wanted to be something more than friends, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Apparently the moonhen ceremony had the side-effect of making everyone ridiculously horny.

Neville had a sneaking suspicion from Luna’s early, gentle caress, but as the glowing hens ran around them in circles and he got the urge to touch and keep touching, his theory was confirmed.

“It lowers inhibitions,” Luna called. “But won’t make you do anything without consent. The moonhens are big believers in informed consent.”

Neville wondered briefly at how much thought the moonhens had given to things like consent, but then Luna’s lips were at his hip and his own were pressing to Harry’s shoulder and as he sank to the grass he decided he didn’t care.

They woke the next morning to Mr Boswick’s squawk. Apparently it was far more offensive seeing Neville naked than being _seen_ naked by Neville, and the man up and quit. “Sure, sure, you’re no longer the Longbottom lawyer,” Neville said, knowing it would make any files confidential once again, and he snuggled deeper into Luna’s side and went back to sleep.

When he woke a second time, to Indie licking his face, he wondered what everyone would think of the night of debauchery they’d had. But it wasn’t debauchery, not really. Not for him, anyway. He loved Harry and Luna, was maybe _in love_ with them, and what had happened during the night was physical, yes, and maybe messy, but it was also beautiful and intense and powerful, and he wasn’t going to be ashamed.

The fact that Rainbow and David seemed to be starting up again led him to believe that they weren’t going to be ashamed either. Seamus and Dean were sneaking away, but they pressed kisses to both Millicent and George’s cheeks on their way out, so maybe this was that free love stuff at work.

“Do we still have to use our words?” Harry murmured sleepily. Neville reached across Luna’s waist to pet clumsily at his arm. “Hermione says we have to.”

“My words are that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” Luna said. “And I want to keep doing this, and taking it all one day at a time.”

The words were perhaps more coherent than Luna usually came out with, but they cut to the heart of the matter, which was normal. “I like those words,” Neville said. “Can they be my words too?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, mine as well, then,” Harry said.

“You’re so good at words,” Luna replied, before pressing a kiss Harry’s lips, then Neville’s. She extricated herself from their pile and moved to the centre of the clearing where a pile of glowing eggs sat.

Harry and Neville both shifted closer to each other, and Neville knew his own shy smile echoed Harry’s own.

“Hey,” Harry said, sliding his arm around Neville’s waist.

“Hey,” Neville replied and, feeling brave, squeezed Harry’s arse. Harry’s eyes grew wide, and then he laughed and kissed Neville, the laughter spilling out of their kiss and Neville could get used to feeling this happy and relaxed and joyous. 

“If we eat those eggs for breakfast are we going to have another orgy on our hands?” George asked as he helped Millicent to her feet. 

“These are love-powered moonhen eggs, George. They sell for 200 galleons each to apothecaries. Why would we eat them?”

Neville choked on air. “How much?”

“I think we have enough for one mortgage payment,” Luna said. “Maybe two. And we can do the ritual every full moon. It only needs three of us.” 

He didn’t know if it was the cries coming from David and Rainbow, or George and Millicent quietly arranging a dinner date, or Luna’s laughter as he swung first her, then Harry in a circle - very carefully avoiding the eggs - but the eggs seemed to glow brighter, but not as bright as Neville’s life.

 

With the monthly moonhen ritual they stopped growing marijuana far earlier than planned, only producing enough that Rainbow and David could come back to regularly say hello. With the garden planted, and the muggles once again repelled, Longbottom Hall became somewhat quieter. But Seamus and Dean must have stockpiled a little, because they still got the occasional visitor through even a year later, and their garden fed them, the pigs still trampled the beds, but their full moon rituals kept the love, and love-powered moonhen eggs, flowing which meant they never had to worry about money again.

Which made sense to Neville, since Luna and Harry always did make him feel like he could live on love alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Sharp-eyed readers may have noticed a familiar redhead arriving to help with planting. This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to princes living or dead is purely coincidental.


End file.
